


Permanent Stay

by EllieSaxon



Series: At 221B [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Background Lestrolly, House Warming Party, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Mrs. Hudson being great, SO MUCH FLUFF, they are stupidly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieSaxon/pseuds/EllieSaxon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set three months after 'Extended Stay', John and Sherlock are still happily together, and decide to have some friends over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permanent Stay

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, this was just an excuse to have John and Sherlock be that stupidly cute couple you can't hate.
> 
> Not beta'd, not Brit-picked. I edited as best I could, but I'm only human, and there are bound to be typos.

Sherlock bounced on the balls of his feet as car after car passed him by. He was late, oh he was so late. The one time he was unable to hail a cab, and it had to be now. He was just starting to consider the Tube – he really didn’t want to take the Tube, it was sure to take even longer to get him there – when a cab finally stopped for him.

“221 Baker Street.” Sherlock barked as he opened the door and slid into the back seat. “If you get me there in less than fifteen minutes, I’ll pay double the fare.”

“Say no more.”

With London rushing by outside the window, Sherlock started berating himself. He couldn’t believe he let time slip away from him; he couldn’t believe his internal clock failed him, it was always so precise. It wasn’t like he needed to do the interviews today, they could have waited. He knew he was going to do something to mess it all up. All he could really do now was hope John wouldn’t be too upset, it wasn’t even John’s idea in the first place.

They were having a party; no, a small gathering. What on earth possessed him to suggest they throw a gathering for their closer acquaintances, their friends? Sherlock thought as he settled back in his seat. But no, he knew why. It had been three months since their first date at Angelo’s, three months since he woke up in John’s arms knowing he wasn’t about to lose him. Three months of falling asleep together and kissing each other awake, three months of dates, of dinners, and occasionally dancing – though now that he had John, he had a far more enjoyable method for burning off adrenaline; and they did dance, they danced with no one but each other. But best of all, it was three months of cases and crime scenes.

The cases started almost immediately. That first wonderful morning, after they… _welcomed the new day_ once or twice, Sherlock allowed John to treat him to that overdue breakfast, and halfway through Lestrade texted. Three bodies, three distinct blood spatter patterns, injuries and body positions inconsistent with patterns, and no sign of bodies being moved. And just like that, they were a team. How he ever managed to solve cases without John by his side, Sherlock would never know. All he knew was that John made him better, and he was never going to look back.

The past three months had been the best of Sherlock’s life, and to cap it all off, John had finally agreed to give up his crappy little bedsit – he hardly used it anymore – and move into Baker Street, move in with Sherlock. That’s what the gathering was about, a ‘house warming’ of sorts. It didn’t matter that Sherlock was staying put and John was the only one moving, or that they’d all but lived together for a while already, it was official now, they were official. What they had was real – not some fling, anomaly, or flash in the pan – and Sherlock felt such an occasion deserved to be marked in some way. He fought the good fight, but sentiment won out in the end. He was blissfully happy, and that was all down to John. And if that wasn’t something their closest acquaintances – friends – should know, Sherlock didn’t know what was.

 

Not thirteen minutes after setting off, the cab pulled up to the curb outside of 221 Baker Street. Not bothering to wait for the cab to stop completely, Sherlock tossed the driver double the fare as he promised, and hurried through the front door. Standing in the foyer, Sherlock could hear the sound of muffled conversation coming from upstairs in the flat. Well, at least they hadn’t left already, he hadn’t missed them entirely, Sherlock thought as he made his way up to the flat. _‘I have to face the music sometime.’_

He had to pause in the doorway for a moment, still unable to fully believe that the picture before him was part of his life, that he had a place in it. Mrs. Hudson sat perched in the leather chair, chatting with Molly. Leaning against the fireplace was Mike Stamford who, Sherlock was surprised to discover when John accompanied him to the lab one day, trained at Bart’s at the same time as John. Mike seemed to be deep in conversation with a couple Sherlock didn’t recognize, most likely Sarah Sawyer and her fiancé.  And there, standing with his back to the windows, laughing with Lestrade, was John. He looked right at home, as if there never existed a time when John Watson didn’t live at 221B Baker Street. John was right where he was always meant to be, where he belonged. Oh yes, Sherlock was blissfully happy.

 

*******

 

“Sorry I’m late.” John’s head snapped up at the sound of Sherlock’s voice coming from the doorway to find him standing there, cheeks pink – why he insisted on wearing a wool coat in the middle of May was anyone’s guess – eyes shining, a grin spread across his face. Dear God, that man was gorgeous.

“I thought I heard the door.” John beamed, leaning up to meet Sherlock’s kiss hello. He had to pull away too soon for his liking. Three months on and he still wasn’t used to those perfect lips, that they were his – and only his – to kiss whenever he wanted, but they had company to consider.

“Only seventeen minutes, it could have been worse.” Lestrade said, looking at his watch. “Actually, for you I think that counts as on time.” He laughed.

“Seventeen minutes?” Sherlock frowned, that adorable crease forming between his brows.

“I may have told you the party started at six,” John murmured low enough so only Sherlock could hear, “and then told everyone else to come at seven.”

“John, you… you tricked me!” Sherlock gasped. He didn’t seem upset, if anything he sounded more surprised that John was able to mislead him, than anything else.

“Just a little bit,” John smirked, “But only because I knew you’d lose track of time, and I didn’t want you feeling bad that you missed your own party.”

Grinning, Sherlock leaned down to press a firm ‘there is more of this to come’ kiss to John’s lips. “You know me so well, John Watson.” He hummed. “But this _gathering_ is for you, to acknowledge that you’ve moved in.”

“That I most certainly did.”

Then, not caring what the others might think, John snaked a hand around the back of Sherlock’s neck to pull him down, and reclaim his mouth.

“Alright lovebirds, enough with the muttering and flirting, there will be plenty of time for that later.” Came Lestrade’s voice, breaking John out of his little Sherlock Holmes bubble. “Aren’t we here to be celebrating John’s move?!”

“Oh hush, Detective.” Mrs. Hudson twittered from her seat. “You’re certainly familiar with that new love feeling, leave them be.”

Sherlock blushed and John could help but laugh. If he and Sherlock had one cheerleader in the world, it would be Mrs. Hudson. That first Saturday after the best first date in recorded history – though John would be the first to admit bias on that fact – Mrs. Hudson had caught them as they were leaving for breakfast, and her smile could have powered several small countries. She held them up for over ten minutes, hugging them individually and together, gushing about how happy she was that ‘they’d both seen reason and came to their senses.’ Sherlock had to finally rush them out the door when Mrs. Hudson started talking about how she’d be needing earplugs. Ever since then, she would beam every time she spotted them together. She later admitted to John that since he and Sherlock got together, Sherlock had done far less damage to the flat than normal, so that may have contributed some to her happiness for them.

“No, no, Mrs. Hudson, Grant is right.” Sherlock said, straightening up and looking around at their guests. “After months of listening to sound, logical arguments, John has finally done the sensible thing, and agreed to cohabitate with me.”

“Mmm, it’s like listening to one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.” Mike joked from over by the fireplace. “Nothing like sound, logical arguments to get the heart beating faster.”

John was about to chuckle along with the rest of their guests when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock’s smile falter slightly.

“Oi! He doesn’t have to prove himself to you lot.” John laughed warningly, wrapping a possessive arm around Sherlock’s waist, pulling him flush against his side. “Sherlock is more than romantic when it counts.”

“I can attest to that!” Mrs. Hudson giggled. “They’re so romantic, I had to ask them to move in to the upstairs bedroom.”

Oh God, leave it to sweet little Mrs. Hudson to broadcast his and Sherlock’s sex life to a room full of their friends. “Right, forgetting we just heard that, I’d prefer to keep Sherlock’s romantic side all to myself, thanks!” He laughed. But it was true. Sherlock wasn’t romantic in the conventional chocolates and flowers way; he was romantic in a wonderfully unique Sherlock way. Stopping in the middle of a case to make sure John ate, playing soft violin pieces and rubbing John’s stiff shoulders after a long shift at the clinic, draping himself over John after a stressful case, and the way he gave everything of himself to John every time they made love. That was how Sherlock Holmes did romance, and John would take that over chocolate and flowers any day.

John smiled up at Sherlock, and gave his waist what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “As you were saying?”

“Yes, right.” Sherlock said, clearing his throat. “John has agreed to move in with me, making me happier than I can say, so we wanted to invite you all over, and pretty much rub your noses in our happiness.”

At that, the entire room burst into laughter.

“Hey, you’re not the only one here in a good relationship, you know!” Molly said, once the laughter subsided.

“Yes, but I am the only one in a relationship with John Watson, so clearly I win.” Sherlock smirked. Molly had to bury her face in Lestrade’s chest to try to get her renewed giggles under control.

“You did get a good one.” Sarah beamed, lifting her glass. “To cohabitation!”

“To cohabitation!” Everyone repeated, joining Sarah in the toast.

“You know, I got myself a good one too.” John said once everyone had gone back to their conversations, and Lestrade had joined Molly and Mrs. Hudson. “And I’m the only one in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes, so I think I’m actually the real winner here.” He added, threading his fingers through Sherlock’s, and lifting their joined hands to his lips, kissing Sherlock’s knuckles. It was amazing how different their hands were, yet they still fit together perfectly, almost as if they were two pieces of a puzzle, destined to fit together. John blushed even thinking about it; destined to fit, it was ridiculous, but it felt true.

“Hmm…” Sherlock nodded, furrowing his brow as if in deep contemplation; number fourteen on John’s list of favorite Sherlock looks. “I think I’m going to have to disagree with you there”

“Agree to disagree?”

“For now, but this isn’t over.”

 

Sherlock barely left John’s side as they mixed and mingled with their guests, not that John minded. Even after three months together – and between cases, dates, and just spending time at home, they were together a good amount of those three months – he had yet to stop craving Sherlock to be as near as possible. Chances are he’d never grow used to it, never stop wanting, needing, Sherlock near.

Best of all, Sherlock remained on his best behavior. He listened attentively – though John could tell he was going to delete it later – as Mike talked animatedly about his kids, and the new little one due to arrive in just a couple weeks. Much to John’s delight, Sherlock managed to make a joke about Sarah being “the almost other women”, when John was finally able to formally introduce them. And Sherlock even kept his composure when Mrs. Hudson started making inquiries as to when “You two boys are going to take the next step in your relationship.” Apparently she wasn’t getting any younger and wanted to be there for ‘The Big One.’ Sherlock simply told her that it was best to see a partner in all four of the seasons before making any legally binding decisions. John quite agreed; though he’d seen Sherlock in winter and spring, and something told him he’d still feel the same about him in summer and fall.

To put in simply, the rest of evening turned out fantastic. Surrounded by some of his closest friends – both old and new – watching the man who had turned his life upside and captured his heart, argue about the legalities of _barrowing_ crown’s evidence, John was happy. John was truly, blissfully happy.

 

*******

 

“Uuhh, let’s never have people over again.” Sherlock groan as he flopped onto the couched, half sprawled on top of John who was already slumped at the end. John always did make the best pillow.

The last of their guests – Lestrade and Molly – had just left, and Sherlock showed them out. Well, he didn’t so much show them out, as he was trying to convince them that allowing him to do the post-mortems on murder victims first would save everyone time. He’d be damned if they were going to leave, and deny him the last word. He didn’t actually manage to convince them, but it wasn’t over, they’d come around and see sense sooner or later.

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Mmmm” Sherlock hummed as John began running his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Not horrible, but tiring. I’d much rather have this, just this, you and me. This feels amazing.” He sighed

“It is amazing, isn’t it?” John chuckled softly. “But spending time with others is good too, if only to remind us how great you and me time really is.”

“True, very true.” Sherlock nodded, though he couldn’t imagine ever taking his alone time with John for granted. There was a time he thought he’d love nothing more than The Work, the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through his veins; but now, this, what he had with John, the moments in-between the chases, nothing compared to this.

“So does that mean you’d be willing to host more dinner parties?” John asked, one eyebrow cocked, a teasing smile spread across his face.

“Uh, maybe once a year at most.” Sherlock said rolling his eyes, and sat up properly to face John. “Though perhaps with a little persuasion, I could agree to more, but only for special occasions.” He added, his voice low, his tone dark, a tone which he knew John was particularly fond of.

“I think a little persuasion can be arranged.” John smirked, and closed the final bit of distance between them.

After several intoxicating minutes of kissing, of lips parting, tongues meeting, and teeth nipping, John pulled away with a sigh

“Back. Come back” Sherlock wined, desperately trying to follow John’s lips, to continue what John started and then cruelly cute short.

Chuckling, John pulled Sherlock to his feet. “Before we get carried away, we really ought to clean up a bit.”

“We could _clean_ ,” Sherlock sneered, “or…”

“Or what?”

“Well, what little mess there is will keep until morning, and I believe we left the issue of who wins in terms of the better relationship partner, outstanding.  I suggest we attempt to settle the matter now?”

“Oh my, we can’t leave something as important as that unsettled.” John said smoothly, running his hands up Sherlock’s chest. “Bed?”

“Bed.” Sherlock shivered, and pulled John towards the bedroom – _their_ bedroom – unable to wait another moment. 

 

 

“I’d be glad to accept your concession now.” Sherlock said, rolling over to pin a still panting John to the bed. Oh he loved this, John completely debauched, and it all being because of him

“My concession? And what exactly am I meant to be conceding?” John asked, rocking his hips up to meet Sherlock’s. They were both totally and completely spent, but John – soft and pliant – moving against him, felt…oh Christ, it felt amazing.

“That I have the better partner.” Sherlock moaned, nipping at John’s jaw; he just looked so damn good. “After that, after what you just did to me, you can hardly argue that I didn’t get the better end of the deal.”

“I most certainly can – _ahhh_ – and I most certainly do.”

“Well you’re wrong.”

“So says you.” John smirked, and suddenly Sherlock found himself flipped onto his back, his mouth claimed by John in a slow, deep kiss.

“Exactly,” he breathed against John’s lips, “and I’m always right.”

“Not all the time, and this is one of the times you are very, very wrong. Everything that just happened now,” John said, grinding down, dragging himself so agonizingly slowly against Sherlock, “that was me trying to deserve you.”

“ _Oh John._ ” Sherlock gasped, feeling the slightest… stirring begin. “Well, I am quite the prize.”

“So you’re agreeing with me? I have the better partner, I win?”

No, John was the bravest, kindest, wisest, and most caring human being Sherlock had ever known. What he was doing with Sherlock, Sherlock could only guess. He had to see that, John had to see that Sherlock didn’t deserve him, that Sherlock counted everyday he got to wake up next to him as a gift. John gave Sherlock happiness, security, motivation, an actual home; all Sherlock ever gave John was a disrupted sleep schedule, an occasional biohazard contamination, and disgruntled a police force and public to deal with. No, Sherlock definitely got the better end of the relationship deal.

“Never!” He grinned. “I refuse to lose, and this cannot end in a draw. I believe we’re going to need to revisit this dispute again.”

“Oh, I believe we’re going to be revisiting this issue _very_ often” John growled. “However long it takes, I’ll prove I got the better – the best – partner.”

Sherlock’s heart was pounding, and it had nothing to do with their most recent activities. “Really?” He breathed. “However long it takes? You mean it?”

“However long it takes.” John smiled softly, leaning for a single, chaste kiss. “Days, months, years, it doesn’t matter, I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, it hit Sherlock all at once, John wasn’t leaving. John moved in with him, merged his life with his. John Watson, who told him he was beautiful, funny, amazing, and incredible, who was everything Sherlock ever wanted, had chosen him. Of everyone out there, John chose Sherlock.

Lifting the hand not wrapped around John’s waist, Sherlock cupped John’s cheek and pulled his head back down. “Thank you,” He whispered against John’s lips, and then finally closed the final bit of space between them. The kiss was deliberate, it was long and languid. Sherlock poured everything he felt, everything John meant to him, in to the slide of his lips against John’s. Everything Sherlock couldn’t find the correct words for, he told John through the kiss.  

They kissed for a long time, but it never progressing past kissing – there was all the time in the world for that later.

Eventually they parted, and settled on their sides to face each other. Sherlock’s chest felt tighter as John looked back at him, a tender smile played on his lips, and his eyes nothing short of…

“I know I don’t say it enough,” Sherlock said quietly, “And I should say it every second of every day, but I hope you know… surely you know… you must know,” he was rambling, he had to focus. “When I’m with you, and even when I’m not, even when I just think of you, I am overwhelmed by my exceedingly fond feelings for you, John Watson.”

There was never a more beautiful sight than that of the grin that overtook John’s face as he laughed. He knew what he meant; John always knew what he meant. The fondness, it was their thing, their own special thing.

_I love you._

“I’ve never doubted it for a second.” John beamed, caressing Sherlock cheek and sending a shiver down his spine. “And Sherlock, being with you, thinking of you, my exceedingly fond feelings overwhelm me too. I’m so fond of you Sherlock, so very, very fond.”

_I love you too._

They didn’t say much after that, instead they just held each other close, knowing that what they had together was special, that what they had together was precious. And just like that, entangled with one another, and with their excessive fondness for each other – their _love_ for each other – enveloping them like security blanket, they fell asleep.

Wrapped safely in each other’s arms, they were content. Wrapped safely in each other’s arms, they were blissfully happy.

**Author's Note:**

> My own personal headcanon for this fic (can you even have those) is that, completely unbeknownst to the other, John and Sherlock both say 'I love you' for the first time in their wedding vows. Yeah, I'm that much of a cheese-ball.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little pure fluff follow-up, I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Good or bad, I love hearing what you think!


End file.
